


Rogue Trip

by angelsaves



Category: Sparrow Hill Road - Seanan McGuire, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Talk, F/F, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lisa Snart, who's been riding the long haul for a few years, picks up an unusual passenger. (If you're unfamiliar with either fandom, see the end notes for what you really need to know.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rogue Trip

_I-80 E in Indiana, 2008_

Lisa's been in dozens of truck stop diners like this one over the two years she's been working as a trucker. She likes them better than fast food places because she gets to feel like a person for half an hour or so -- that, and she can order eggs over-easy at any time of the day or night. She's pretty fond of eggs over-easy.

Anyway, she's been in enough of these places that she knows what cast of characters to expect: the good ol' boy, the young guy with a family, the dried-up senior citizen; the motherly waitress, the bored one, and the new one; the sex worker; and Lisa herself. She's gotten used to playing down her striking looks, wearing baggy layers and no makeup, baseball cap over dirty hair, to avoid being mistaken for the former. Otherwise, she might have to use the skills Mick taught her when she was little. Breaking a nose makes a really unpleasant crunch, which Lisa prefers to avoid when she can.

Tonight, though, there's someone else. She's younger than Lisa, still in school, maybe, in a T-shirt too thin for the chill in the air. Her shoulders are hunched. It makes the dregs of Lisa's conscience twinge -- Lenny tried to train that out of her, but it never quite took.

Lisa sighs and peels off her top layer, a battered army surplus jacket. She waves the girl over peremptorily -- she's always liked that word, since she often embodies it -- and says, "Here. You look cold. It bothers me."

"Thank you," says the girl, shrugging into the jacket. She must have been really cold; as soon as it's on, she looks somehow more solid, like the blood has come back into her skin.

Ugh. The look of her is making Lisa feel almost motherly. Lisa despises feeling motherly. She helped Mick set all of her baby dolls on fire when she was five. "Let me buy you some food. You look like a stiff breeze would blow you over."

The girl snorts. "It might," she admits. "I wouldn't mind a burger."

"Sit down, already. You're making me twitchy." It's true -- being raised by her brother and her basically-brother, the notorious criminals, has given Lisa a strong dislike for having people in her blind spot -- but there's also something about this girl. "I'm Lisa," she adds belatedly.

"Rose." She holds out her hand, and Lisa takes it: cold and delicate, but not weak.

"Pleasure to meet you, Rose," Lisa says, then catches the waitress's eye. "Bobbi? Could I get a burger for my good friend Rose?"

"Sure thing," says Bobbi, snapping her gum, and saunters back to the kitchen.

"Your good friend," Rose repeats.

"Yes, well," Lisa says. "Otherwise, she might think I'm picking you up."

"You're not? Darn." Rose quirks her lips upward.

Huh. That's not what Lisa was expecting. "I didn't say that," she says languidly. "I just don't think it's anyone's business if I am."

Rose's half-smile turns into a real grin. "Before or after food?"

"Before," Lisa says. "...And maybe after."

"I like the way you think," Rose says. "Meet me in two minutes." She slides off the stool, Lisa's jacket hanging loosely off her small frame, and heads for the ladies' room, tipping Lisa a wink just before the door swings shut behind her.

Lisa watches the clock. Two minutes later on the dot, she pushes open the ladies' room door. There's only one pair of feet visible under the stall doors: beat-up sneakers, in the furthest non-accessible stall from the entrance, the same one Lisa would have chosen herself.

Rose opens the door as Lisa approaches, and pulls her inside by the collar of her flannel shirt. Her mouth on Lisa's is cool and clever, nibbling on her lower lip, sucking on her tongue, and it feels incredibly good. Lisa presses Rose up against the metal wall, getting one of her thighs between Rose's, and grinds close.

"Oh, that's good," Rose gasps out, riding Lisa's thigh, sliding one cool hand inside Lisa's layers of shirts to stroke the curve of her breast.

"Mmm, I know." Lisa bends to kiss Rose's neck, pushing aside the collar of her own jacket for better access. Her skin is silk-smooth and tastes of cinnamon, and her hips are moving faster and faster, like she's about to come undone. "Can you come just from this? Do you want to?"

"I don't know," Rose says. "Yes. Kiss me again."

Lisa smiles her most predatory smile. "All right." She licks into Rose's mouth and cups her little round ass, hitching her up higher on her own thigh and grinding harder, getting the friction right over Rose's clit. Rose moans deliciously around her tongue, wrapping one leg around the back of Lisa's knee, and a shudder goes through her.

"Oh, wow, oh, Persephone," Rose says breathlessly -- an interesting curse. Lisa files that away for later. "That was better than I expected."

"Hmmph!" Lisa pretends to be offended, just to see what Rose will do.

Gratifyingly, she blushes. "I mean, you didn't even get my pants off!"

Lisa shrugs. "You were cold," she says.

"And you're hot," Rose replies, grinning.

"Thank you." She's never seen the point of being coy about compliments, especially not when they're true.

"What can I do for you? Do you want my mouth, my fingers?"

"Fingers," Lisa decides, and Rose immediately shoves a hand in her pants. Her fingers are still cool, verging on cold. It feels good, in a slightly kinky way, as Rose slips them between her folds, spreading her slick up and around the hood of her clit.

"I don't do this much," Rose murmurs into the underside of Lisa's jaw.

"Liar," Lisa says mildly, giving a gentle tug to Rose's light brown hair.

"Not with women," Rose corrects herself, which is more believable. "Tell me if I do it wrong."

"You're doing adequately, for a beginner," Lisa tells her, understating the case -- she's actually pretty good. "Put two fingers in my cunt and rub my clit with your -- oh -- yes."

Rose crooks the fingers inside of Lisa experimentally, wringing a gasp out of her. She looks pleased with herself. "You feel so good," she says, thumb an insistent pressure, just hard enough.

"You're -- oh -- not bad," Lisa says, and kisses her neck again. "Why do you taste like cinnamon? You don't seem like the baking type."

Rose's hand stills; Lisa rolls her hips impatiently to remind her that she's in the middle of something. "Cinnamon, huh?" she says, with obviously-forced casualness.

"I'm not complaining," Lisa says. "You're a tasty treat." She licks a stripe up Rose's neck to demonstrate.

"We'd better talk while we eat, though," Rose says, stroking Lisa's G-spot again and making her whimper. "But first things first." She focuses her attention on Lisa's body, then, pinching her nipple, rubbing her clit, and it's only moments before Lisa feels her muscles clench and flutter around Rose's fingers.

"Oh, yes," she says on a long sigh. She kisses Rose again, then slowly slides off of her hand. "Go wash up. I'll be along in a minute."

"Okay," Rose says; with another quick kiss, she leaves the stall.

Lisa pees -- driving the long haul with a UTI is a special form of torture -- and thinks. There's something odd going on with Rose; that she's certain of. Still, she promised her a meal, and what could it hurt to listen to her while they eat?

Back at the bar, Rose is already digging into her burger, and Lisa's eggs and sausage are steaming beside her. Lisa climbs onto her stool and pierces her eggs so she can watch the yolks drip out into the hash browns, her favorite part. She takes a big bite and savors it.

"I don't know what cinnamon means," Rose says after a while, wiping her mouth daintily on a paper napkin. There's no sign of her burger; that's quite an appetite on her.

"It makes me think of Christmas," Lisa suggests. Lenny always swipes a couple of bottles of cheap eggnog from the Kroger's at Christmas, then sprinkles some cinnamon on it, to make it fancy.

"No, I mean --" Rose sighs. Lisa raises her eyebrows and waits. "Sometimes, I smell things for a reason. Ashes and lilies are --"

"Death," Lisa guesses.

"Close enough. Rosemary and perfume means I can change something, keep it from turning to ashes and lilies. Wormwood and gasoline --" She shudders. "That's worse than death."

"And cinnamon is a mystery," Lisa says.

"I guess so," Rose says. She looks at Lisa hungrily, and Lisa doesn't think it's because she wants the last of her hash browns.

"Which way are you going?" she asks.

"East," Rose says carelessly.

Lisa knows the feeling. "Good," she says. "I can take you as far as Central City."

Rose blinks at her. "Colorado's west of here, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lisa says slowly. "But Central City is in Ohio."

"I -- Where did you start this morning?" Rose asks.

"Metropolis." There's an alarm bell going off in the pit of Lisa's stomach. "Where did you start?"

"Just outside Chicago," Rose says, "which I have a feeling you've never heard of."

"Chicago?" Lisa scrunches her nose. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Oh boy." Rose rests her head on her hand. "I think I know what cinnamon means now."

"Enlighten me," Lisa drawls in her best imitation of her brother's voice.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Rose warns her.

Lisa snorts. "Darling, I already do."

"I'm in the wrong universe," Rose tells her. "I came up through the ghostroads, and most things are the same, but there are some important differences."

"Like the cities along I-80," Lisa says. "What are the ghostroads?"

For a moment, Rose's eyes look much, much older than the rest of her. "I hope you never need to know."

"All right," Lisa says, trying not to let her eyes widen. "I'll leave that alone. What do you need from me?"

"A ride," Rose says. "That's all I ever need -- that and a coat."

"You've got both of those," Lisa says. "Although I'm fairly sure my truck doesn't cross universes."

"I hope I won't need it to." Rose glances up through her eyelashes. "Take me home with you?"

Lisa tucks some folded bills under the edge of her plate, enough to cover their meals and a sizable tip. "How did you know I lived in Central City?" she asks, getting off the stool.

"The way you said it," Rose says. "It sounded like home."

"Hmm." With a last slurp of her soda, Lisa leads the way out to the parking lot. "It's not much, but it's where I keep all my stuff."

She opens the passenger side door for Rose, who beams at her and leans down from the running board to give her a long kiss. Eventually, Lisa breaks it off and goes around to climb in herself.

"This is nice," Rose says, looking around the cab. "You take good care of her."

"She returns the favor," Lisa says, and Rose nods her understanding. "You know trucks."

"Yes." Rose doesn't elaborate, and Lisa doesn't push. There are things she'd rather not talk about herself.

They drive east in mostly-comfortable silence for a long while, broken only by Rose's palpable unease every time they pass a sign marking the distance to the next big cities. Lisa can only imagine how it must feel to see names she doesn't recognize there.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Rose asks as they cross the Indiana-Ohio border.

"Go for it," Lisa says. The song that comes on is very 1960s -- she can almost see the coiffed hair on the boy singing.

"Hmm." Rose is frowning when Lisa glances over, and she flips the station. It's the same song, strong bass line, sopranos _ooh-ooh-ooh_ ing in the background. The next station is the same, and the next, and is this one of those teenage tragedy songs?

"Is this normal in your universe?" Lisa asks Rose as calmly as she can. There's a sweet green smell around them, and she's not sure it's a good sign.

"Not really," Rose says, sounding preoccupied. "Do you trust me?"

"Do I trust you?" Lisa repeats.

"It's a simple question, Lisa!"

"Fine! Yes!" Lisa snaps.

"I know a shortcut. Close your eyes," Rose says, like that's a reasonable demand.

"I'm driving," Lisa reminds her.

"There's no one else on the road, and I'm keeping mine open. Just do it, okay?" Rose is practically begging; Lisa dislikes it.

"If you say so." Lisa squeezes her eyes shut tight before she can think better of it.

"Thank you," Rose says. "Just keep the wheel steady. Good -- just like that." Her voice is soothing, which makes Lisa feel slightly better about driving blind. Slightly. "Okay, we're through. You can open your eyes."

"I don't want to understand this, do I?" The sign that whizzes by says it's 75 miles to Central City, when a moment ago, it was 175. "I'm pretty sure you broke physics somehow, and you don't even know where we are."

"I didn't break physics. I just... didn't use them, either," Rose says.

"That," Lisa informs her, "is not comforting." The sky is a funny color for 10 PM; that, she discovers when she looks at the clock, is because it's actually 4 AM. "I thought you said this was a shortcut!"

Rose looks at the clock, then back at Lisa. "I thought it would be," she says, as if someone has just punched her in the solar plexus. "We lost six hours?"

"Apparently," Lisa says. She glances at her mileage, and -- well. It looks as though she actually drove for six hours, even though it only felt like a minute. At least she'll get paid, and that weird smell is gone. "Too bad. I thought we'd have all night."

"So did I." Rose looks pretty miserable.

"I had plans for you," Lisa says, giving in to the instinct to push at a sore spot.

Rose doesn't tear up, though; she shifts in her seat. "You should tell me about them," she says.

Lisa smiles. Oh, she likes Rose. "Let's see," she says, tapping her chin theatrically. "I thought I'd spread you out on the bed, get those jeans off, and eat you out until you screamed."

Rose squirms. "I like that idea," she says. "Would you let me return the favor?"

"Mmm, maybe," Lisa says. "When I was done with you. It might be a while; I like to take my time."

"I usually do it fast," Rose says. Her voice is getting a little hoarse.

"I know," Lisa says. "That's why I want to do you slow. I bet I could make you sob, just waiting for me to touch you."

"I'm pretty sure you could." Rose groans softly.

"But yes, I'd let you go down on me," Lisa goes on. "You have a pretty mouth; I'd like to see you use it."

"Would you kiss me before I go?" Rose asks, sounding wistful.

"Of course," Lisa says, mildly offended. "I'm a lady."

"No, I mean --" Rose leans into Lisa's space and kisses her, hard. Lisa's barely kissing her back when, all of a sudden, Rose is gone without a trace.

Well, not quite. Lisa's jacket is lying on the passenger seat, the pale dawn light making it look like a piece of another universe.

Lisa touches her mouth with the cool back of her hand, where it's still tingling from Rose's kiss. It's been quite a night.

**Author's Note:**

> Lisa Snart looks like [this](http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/arrow/images/0/0a/Lisa_Snart.png/revision/latest?cb=20151022215711), and she canonically has her commercial driving license. [These two guys](http://lovelace-media.imgix.net/uploads/525/43a78db0-82e3-0132-43cf-0ebc4eccb42f.jpg?) basically raised her -- the one on the left is her brother, the one on the right is his partner -- and they're criminals. 
> 
> Rose Marshall is a hitchhiking ghost, who becomes flesh and blood when she borrows a coat from a living person and disappears at dawn.
> 
> Oh, and the song that comes on the radio is ["Last Kiss" by J Frank Wilson & the Cavaliers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bh4se9YMV3A).


End file.
